


Supernova

by jonsasnow



Series: Across the Stars [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonsa Smut Week, Smut, Smut in Space, Sort Of, Space Smut, a galactic space opera, also, but i mean like super loosely, it's loosely based on that disney movie treasure planet, jon is second in command of a ship, jonsa, sansa is disguised as a boy, shennanigans ensue, you dont need to know the movie to read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 01:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12901515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: Desperate to escape Petyr's control and find the family she'd lost as a young child, Sansa disguises herself as a boy and hides out on a royal galactic ship, where Jon is the second-in-command.This is Jon's most rowdy crew to date and he's struggling to control them, so when a young boy asks to join his ship, he employs him to be his eyes and ears in case of mutiny. Jon likes the lad; he's smart and easy to talk to; he's just unfortunately not what he seems at all and the revelation will knock Jon's world askew.





	Supernova

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harumscarum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harumscarum/gifts), [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts).



> Sooo this was originally for Day 2 (Jealousy) of Jonsa Smut Week on tumblr, but what should've been a 3k one shot turned into this and well... whoops? 
> 
> Yes, this is hopefully Part 1 of a longer series, but it could also be read as a standalone, so enjoy?

The solar storm had raged violently all night. The mainmast was fractured, splintering as a result of a particularly close call with lightning, and the crew was in dangerously low spirits. There was talk of leaving at first docking the next morning, and as second-in-command, Jon felt it his duty to somehow dissuade them from leaving. The _RLS Brotherhood_ could not afford any more setbacks if they were to deliver their highly classified shipment to the royal family by the end of the fortnight, as was scheduled. Jon needed a way to bolster his men. Thankfully, they were nearing Port Eyrie and the known trading port was the perfect distraction they needed. The local inn was notorious for catering to the rowdier crews’ taste in ale and women. Jon may not be one to participate himself, but if a few pieces of gold out of the budget and a night of debauched fun would keep his crew from leaving, it would be worth it. 

With Captain Davos’ blessing, Jon led the men down onto the dock as the _RLS Brotherhood_ docked for maintenance. He bought the first round at the inn and paid for the live entertainment, dropping the few gold pieces into the greedy waiting hands of a man going by the name of Littlefinger. His sharp eyes made Jon uneasy. There was something calculative about the way they never missed a movement. Men like that always had ulterior motives; they always had a card tucked away underneath their sleeve. Jon decided to keep his distance and moved to the back of the crowd where he leant against the wall with his pint in hand to watch the show. 

The lights dimmed and the crowd quieted as they held their breath. Out from the wings of the staged walked the single most beautiful woman Jon had ever seen in his life. The breath left his lungs as she took centerstage, her long luxurious copper hair swishing with every move she made. Her sky blue eyes stared out into the audience with such severe focus, it was as if she was trying to see each and every one of them. Jon nearly stepped out from his corner to have her gaze fall on him, but he was transfixed. As were all the men in the room. 

And when she sang... Jon couldn’t readily say what emotion washed over him, but if he was not bound by duty to the Royal Fleet, he would gladly stay here for the rest of his life just to watch her sing. 

\------------------------------------------------

_A Royal fleet!_

This was her chance. Sansa could _finally_ get away from Petyr, from the life he had forced her into; all she had to do was implement her plan as soon as the man went to sleep. Considering it was a weekend, Sansa only had a small window of opportunity to gather her meagre belongings and race to the docks before anyone saw her. Frankly, the likelihood of failure was far greater than success. It was the weekend and nights at the inn ran late into the early hours of the morning, which meant Petyr was up until it closed. And then there was the Royal fleet. They were a rarity in these parts and if they were at full capacity, she would never be able to board. Sansa was relying far too much on luck at this point, something she hated to do, but there would never be a better opportunity. 

She could not stand this inn any longer; she had lived under the guise of Alayne for far too long. What threat there was at who she formerly was must have long passed by now, though it was futile to explain that to Petyr. The man had become more possessive, more lecherous with her the older she grew. As a child, Sansa had treasured her beauty above any other traits she might have had, but it was her beauty that had gotten her into this mess and it was her beauty now that she so loathed about herself. She wished she was ugly, boring and plain, easy to overlook and easy to forget. Maybe then she would have been able to slip away sooner. 

It was no matter now. She would be rid of it now. 

With the clippers in hand, Sansa inhaled deeply as she began hacking at her long copper hair. Once a source of pride as it swayed and shimmered to the tops of her lower back, she had no regrets now in chopping it all off. She kept it to just below her ears, knowing the wind on a ship would dry and redden them painfully if she hacked it too close to her scalp and exposed them to the environments. 

Sansa’s features were still feminine to her eyes, but she had a grey ratty beanie to pull over her head and it helped darken her normally fair complexion and keep her blue eyes hidden. Next, Sansa grabbed the medical wrappings and began binding her chest, pulling it as tightly as she could bear it, before slipping into the oversized tunic and dark brown men’s trousers. She tied it off with a belt to keep it from slipping and was glad she had thought to tailor it to her height earlier this week out of boredom. 

Still somewhat feminine, but at least she could now pass for a young boy who had just yet to fully grow into his body. It would do. 

Throwing her belongings into the rucksack, Sansa slipped out from the window of her bedroom and shimmied down the pipe. The docks were a ten-minute walk, but the sun was soon to rise. She knew from living along a popular trading route that most ships left at early light. She would have to run and pray and hope against the odds for just the smallest sliver of a chance. 

\------------------------------------------------

Jon was overseeing the loading of additional supplies when the boy came bumbling up to the ship, tripping over his own trousers and falling face-first into a sack of flour. He was tall, thin and probably grew too fast to know how to control his own limbs. Trained to always be professional, it was still hard not to laugh at this boy’s unfortunate entrance, but Jon’s face remained impassive as he watched the boy pick himself back up. 

“Sir!” he croaked out, saluting, as soon as he was right-side up again. 

When his eyes met Jon’s, however, there was an undercurrent of recognition. There was just something so awfully familiar about him, but Jon couldn’t quite place him. “Have we met before?” 

The lad flushed and shook his head adamantly. “N-no, Sir. I’m… I’ve lived here all me life.” 

Jon nodded. “Right, well then, what’s your business?” 

“Work, Sir,” he said, sounding more confident and sure of his words now. “I seek work on the Royal fleet. I’ll do anything, Sir. I can cook! I can clean!”

“Have you ever worked on a ship before?” 

“Not exactly, but I –” 

“Then we have no need for you,” Jon said with a weary sigh. He met plenty of young lads such as this at every port they docked on. Green-eyed things desperate for adventure, but they were more of a liability than an asset, and this trip was too important. 

Jon started to turn around when a hand shot out to circle his wrist. “No, wait! Please, _please_ … I need to get off this planet. I need…” The boy inhaled sharply. “I’ll work for no pay.” 

That piqued Jon’s interest. The only people who would work for no pay in this day and age were truly desperate and not for adventure. “Who are you running from?”

“What?” 

“The only people desperate enough to work for no pay are criminals looking to escape the law,” Jon informed him. 

“I’m no criminal!” the boy said haughtily. “I just need to get out.” 

The truth was Jon could use the additional help. This boy was young and unassuming; he could come in handy if there were ever talks again of abandoning the _RLS Brotherhood_. Jon would need a head’s up. “Here’s my offer,” he said lowly. “I let you on board, but you work for _only_ me. I’ll teach you what I know and in return, you report back to me if you hear _anything_ I should know about the crew.” 

The boy’s face brightened considerably, softening his features and making him look far younger than he probably was. “Yes, yes, Sir! I’ll do anything!” 

Jon chuckled and sighed. “So… you got a name?” 

“Robb, Sir.” 

“Okay,” Jon nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Robb. And stop calling me ‘sir’. The name’s Jon. Now get on board and go below deck and find yourself a bunker.”

\------------------------------------------------

She hadn’t come down for breakfast. That was unlike her. 

As Petyr ascended the stairs towards her room at the very top, he felt a peculiar foreboding in the pit of his stomach. Worst case scenarios ran through his mind, expecting each and every one and already coming up with contingency plans to deal with them. Petyr pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, pushing it quietly, as he peered in. 

_Gone_. 

All of her belongings were gone. Her bed was unmade. 

His Sansa was gone! 

Petyr ran back down the stairs and called for Merv. 

“Ready my ship!” he commanded. “Lock up the inn!”

_I will find you, little dove. I will bring you home._

\------------------------------------------------

Her heart ached each time anyone called her Robb. She hadn’t seen her family in eight long years and she missed her older brother terribly. He had always been her protector against the world, but she had no way of knowing if he was dead or alive and it pained her to be reminded of her lost family with each call of the name. 

But it was the name she had chosen for her new identity, hoping that she would be able to draw bravery from simply sharing the same name as her brother. 

Living on a ship wasn’t much different to living at the inn, but there were no rowdy men who got a little frisky with each pint and there was definitely no Petyr. The work was hard. She spent most of her mornings polishing the deck, her afternoons in the scullery below deck and the evenings with Jon as he taught her various things about the ship. He was kind, broody perhaps and a little too solemn at times, but his heart was good, pure in a way Sansa had never truly seen in a person over the age of ten. 

Sansa learned he was an only child and his father left when he was barely a year old. He grew up with his mother until she died when he was sixteen, which was when he enrolled at the Royal Naval Academy. He rose up the ranks quickly after that, excelling at almost all he had been tasked with, though Jon didn’t say that himself. Sansa saw it in the way he handled himself, the way he commanded the crew and took control in any crisis, small or large. 

“Are you even paying attention?” 

Jon was staring at her. He’d been pointing to various constellations and galaxies in the distance, as he tried to teach her about navigation. Instead, she’d been daydreaming about what he’d look like shirtless. 

“Uh…” she flushed. “Sorry, Jon. I was just –” 

“Yeah, you do that a lot,” he said. His eyes furrowed and abruptly, he grabbed at her elbow and pushed back her rolled up sleeves to reveal the mottled purple and yellow bruise. “What the hell is this?” 

“Nothing.” Sansa snatched her arm back and crossed it over her chest. 

“It’s not bloody nothing, is it?” Jon said, scowl still on his face. “Is the crew giving you a hard time?” 

“ _No_ ,” she immediately said, perhaps a little too quickly, but Sansa didn’t want to cause trouble. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself. It was bad enough sharing a bunker down in a room full of gross, smelly men who thought it was fun to bully around the new kid. She could handle a few shoves here and there, even the extra chores they made her do. At least those kept her outside. She hated being below deck. 

“Don’t do that thing you do, please.” 

Jon looked perplexed. “What thing?” 

“Ugh.” She made a face. “You get all big brother over people. Like Sam? And me? I’m not a baby, you know? I can handle myself.”

He rolled his eyes. “I only get that way because Sam gets a lot of flack for being smarter than everyone on board. And you’re just a kid.” 

She wasn’t. If she had to guess, she was close to his age, but with her hair chopped so haphazardly and her clothes so baggy on her thin frame, she did only look sixteen. “I am not.” 

“Sure, _kid_ ,” Jon snorted as he ruffled her cropped hair and walked off. It made her blood boil to be so patronised like that and Sansa regretted ever thinking he was attractive or charming. 

He was a broody, annoying git with a hero complex. 

\------------------------------------------------

There were sightings of another solar storm in the distance and Jon began preparing the crew for it. He only hoped that it was smaller in size than the last. Royal fleet or not, he didn’t think they would be able to afford more maintenance work down on the _RLS Brotherhood_ nor would the crew be sticking around to even see to the end of the journey. They were a raucous bunch, not particularly loyal to the Winterfell Empire or any other one for that matter; they care only about money and their own skins. Jon supposed he could find new crew members, but that kind of recruitment took time, a few days at least, and he simply did not have the time. 

Captain Davos called him into his study later that afternoon. He sat behind a large mahogany desk, more ostentatious than the man himself, but Jon suspected it was a remnant of the last captain. 

“You called, Sir?” 

“Ah yes, have a seat, Jon,” he said, gesturing to the empty maroon chair in front of the desk. Jon swiftly sat down and waited. “We cannot afford to have any hiccups on this journey. How are the men?” 

“Disloyal,” Jon answered honestly. “But no signs of dissent as of yet. And no more aware of what we’re transporting than what we told them on the first day.”

“Good. That is good,” Captain Davos said with a pleased smile. “And should I be worried about the storm?”

“No, Sir. Sam and I analysed the data and it appears to be much smaller than the last. Our ship will withstand it well enough.” 

Captain Davos nodded. “One more thing, Jon. Tell me about the new lad. Your spy on the inside, I presume?” 

“Yes, Sir. Uh… his name’s Robb. Young, a bit green behind the ears, but smart. Very observant kid.” Jon thought about all of the evenings he’d spent with the boy. “I think the crew is taking advantage of him, Sir. He’s got more bruises than he ought and I believe he is doing additional chores too at night instead of sleeping.”

The captain frowned and ran a hand across his jaw. “What’s your solution?” 

“He’s just a kid,” Jon said. “A good kid. Maybe we could find him somewhere else to stay. He won’t need much space.” 

Captain Davos shook his head. “You will risk the crew thinking we’re favouring him. It would only make it worse.” 

Jon sighed. “I feel responsible…” 

“Of course you do,” Captain Davos said with a chuckle. “You feel responsible for a great many things, Jon. Most of which are burdens not yours to bear. But as for the lad, I may have a solution. If you trust him, _she_ could use the company. And we could bunk him with Sam and say he will be assisting him personally.” 

“Would that not risk the crew’s ire as well?” 

“Do the men not think Sam as dull a doorknob?” Davos asked, to which Jon nodded. “They would think it punishment for the lad.” 

\------------------------------------------------

There was something _off_ about the newest crew member of the _RLS Brotherhood_. Sam couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but since the young boy had come to assist him, it was getting harder and harder to ignore. He was peculiar, much different to most of the boys Sam had grown up knowing. 

Robb was slight in frame, not quite lanky as would be typical of his height, but just _small_. He was weak, even weaker than Sam had been at that age, which made him worry tremendously for the boy whenever he was tasked with something out on deck with the other men. But most of all, Robb had the same starry-eyed look his little sister did whenever Sam talked about the song and stories of old. 

“You like the tale of the Spacemaiden?” 

The boy nodded vigorously. “Yes, Sir! She sounds a lot like –” He paused and coughed into his hand. “Um, like this girl I knew.” 

“A girlfriend?” Sam inquired, always eager to know more about the young boy. 

Robb looked confused. “Girlfriend? Oh no, Sir. Just… a friend.” 

“Are you lying, Robb?” he teased, smiling. “You’re of the age to be having girlfriends and –” 

The door to his study burst open without so much as a knock. There was only one person in the whole of the ship that would do that and it appeared that Robb knew as well as the boy was suddenly on his feet. 

“Alright, lad, you’re needed,” Jon said, gesturing for Robb to follow him. 

Sam stood up as well. “What a shame. Robb was just about to tell me all about his girlfriend.” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” Robb cried out, red-faced. He looked to Jon and shook his head. “I swear it.” 

Jon laughed and slapped the boy on the shoulder. “Well, it’s ex now anyways. C’mon. We can’t keep the captain waiting.” 

“Why does the captain wanna meet me!” 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” came Jon’s reply as he waved goodbye at Sam and closed the door behind them. 

_Peculiar indeed._

\------------------------------------------------

Sansa panicked as she ran through every possible reason why the captain of the _RLS Brotherhood_ would want to speak to her, but none came to mind except for one. They’d found out who she was and they were going to boot her off the ship at the next port. 

In spite of Jon’s lessons, Sansa had still yet to grasp the art of solar navigation and she couldn’t quite tell exactly where they were currently. The next port could be _worse_ than Port Eyrie, full of treacherous men, who’d try to control as Petyr once had. Sansa tried to reason with herself that at least she had a new start to her previously confined life, but it wasn’t where she wanted to be. The only remnants of her childhood that she could really remember was in Winterfell. The faces she saw every night, the names and voices that rang in her mind – they were all there and Sansa had to get back there at all cost. 

Before Jon could knock on the captain’s door, Sansa grabbed at his elbow, ignoring the jolt of electricity that ran up her spine any time she was near him. “Jon, why does the captain want to speak to me? Did I do something wrong? Do I not work hard enough?” She couldn’t keep the hysteria out of her voice, and if maybe it rose a few octaves higher than her normal ‘Robb’ voice, her mind didn’t pause long enough to care. If she was going to be found out, she’d at least go with her chin held high as Sansa and not Robb the orphan boy. 

Jon frowned, pulling her hand off of his person. “You’re not in trouble. Relax, Robb.” 

But Sansa couldn’t relax. 

The captain’s study was a wide rectangular room with big wide windows on one side, giving a clear view of the sky outside. Hanging above was an iridescent chandelier embedded with Tarth solar sapphires. It was beautiful and terrifying in the same breath. 

Up until now, Sansa hadn’t had much dealing with the captain aside from the initial introduction. She’d tried to steer clear of the older man, worried that he would see through her facade easily, and those worries were ever-present in this moment. 

Sansa stood tall beside Jon, trying to leech off of his courage through proximity. “Good – Um, good morning, Sir,” she said. Should she salute? Not knowing the proper protocol, she saluted anyways. Sansa couldn’t remember much of her childhood, most of it clouded in a murky grey haze, but she remembered certain lessons about society etiquette, something that had been ingrained in her from birth. However, it wasn’t as if Sansa could curtsy as Robb the orphan boy. That would be far more bizarre than a sixteen-year-old boy with rosy cheeks and thick eyelashes. 

“Ah, Robb,” the captain greeted, standing up. “I must apologise for not having the chance to speak with you sooner. How are you enjoying your new duties with Sam, our Royal Advisor?” 

“Great, Sir,” Sansa immediately replied. “Sam has been teaching me lots of new things.” She glanced to the man beside her and added, “as has Jon!”

He chuckled and ducked his head. 

The captain nodded. “Yes, I don’t doubt it, lad. Now, tell me, what do you know of the Highgarden Empire?” 

“They are located in the Reach Galaxy,” Sansa said. She had learnt about them in school back when she’d entertained dreams of flying away to the sunny empire. “It is said to be the most beautiful of all of the Seven Empires. Green hills and bright blue seas.” 

“That is correct,” he said. “But what do you know of its royal family?”

“Ah, not much, Sir,” Sansa admitted. “They are ruled by the Tyrell family, but that is all I can recall.” 

“The Tyrells are Winterfell’s greatest but most fickle allies,” the captain explained. “To secure this alliance, our king has decided to marry his eldest son to their princess, but many people are opposed to this alliance, so we’ve been tasked with secretly transporting the princess to Winterfell.” 

“Princess Margaery is on board?” Sansa cried out, unable to hide the shock of this news. 

“She is, and we’ve entrusted you with this so to tell another is treason, do you understand, boy?” the captain said, face growing stern, such a contrast to the soft and genteel expression he had on before. 

“Y-yes, Sir. But why _are_ you telling me?” 

“Our princess is in dire need of company,” the captain said wearily, as if he’d been having this conversation one too many times. “And neither Jon, Sam nor I have the time to entertain her. But you – you could.”

Sansa paled. She couldn’t entertain a princess. Women were intuitive; women _knew_. She’d be found out in seconds! “But Sir, aren’t I needed with Sam? Or the cook? I have so many chores, Sir!” 

“And as captain, I am relieving you of them,” he said. “Now, lad, we are only asking you to entertain her for a few hours a day. Too long and the crew may get suspicious.”

“Are you sure I’m right for this? I’m only a kid. I don’t know how to act around a princess!” 

Jon laughed, after staying silent for so long. “Are you worried you won’t impress her, Robb? Don’t worry. She is betrothed to another; you won’t _need_ to impress her.” 

Sansa scowled at him. Flirting with a princess was the least of her bloody worries, though she could hardly tell Jon that. 

A traitorous voice in her head wondered if _Jon_ had been flirting with Princess Margaery. Sansa had never seen her, but there were talks about her beauty and charm. Surely even the broody git was not impervious to such a fine woman. 

“This is not a question, boy. It’s an order. Now, can we trust you?” 

Sansa snapped her attention back to the captain and nodded, sighing inwardly. “Yes, Sir. ‘Course you can.” 

Later that night, Sansa tossed and turned in her tiny cot. She had grown accustomed to the snoring and farting down below deck with the other men, and so living with Sam was almost quite literally like a breath of fresh air, but it was that damned voice in her head that was keeping her up this time. 

What would Margaery Tyrell be like? And how was Sansa ever going to fake her way around a princess? 

\------------------------------------------------

Jon was saddened to have Robb be assigned to the princess. He’d come to enjoy the young boy’s company. He was intuitive, far more observant than Jon ever could be, and he had a mind for leadership. It surprised him at first that someone so young could so expertly navigate their way around a crew of twenty-odd men, finding ways to appease their grievances and still compromise some luxuries for themselves. Truth be told, Jon suspected that he needn’t go to Captain Davos to have Robb transferred to Sam’s bunk. The boy could surely have found his way just fine.

Jon wanted to persuade the kid to join the Royal Naval Academy; he was positive Robb could go far in the way of the navy. It would give purpose to the kid’s life, something more than this bizarre desire to get to Winterfell. Jon had been like him once. When his mum died, he’d been lost. He wanted to join the Wall at the far reaches of the galaxy where the etherium was thinnest and the life expectancy was at its lowest, but then came Davos Seaworth. He’d stumbled into Jon’s tiny town and persuaded him to join the academy. Maybe he could do the same for Robb. 

“You’d be good at it,” Jon said, leaning against the railing. A cluster of dying stars were brightening the inky sky in purples, pinks and oranges. It was a beautiful sight, one of the many reasons why he loved his job so much. 

“I don’t think so,” the boy said. “Besides, I have other plans.” 

“Right, your mysterious Winterfell plans,” Jon said with a snort. “Any chance I get to hear it before you go?” 

Robb chuckled. “One day.” 

Silence fell for a moment as the largest star lit up the sky in blinding white light before a thousand dots of pink shot out from its centre.

“Besides, I’m not nearly as broody enough to join the academy.” 

Jon glanced at the boy and rolled his eyes. “Isn’t this joke getting old?” 

“No way,” he said, chuckling again. He then turned his whole body towards Jon. “You’re good at this though, you know that, right?” 

He felt his cheeks heat up at the unexpected compliment. Men didn’t normally praise each other. The only person who ever sang Jon’s praise was Sam and he did so in a way that was far less intimate than this. This felt bizarre like Jon should somehow return it with equalled amounts of emotion, but he wasn’t that kind of person either. He internalised most of his thoughts and feelings. 

“I’ve been taught well,” Jon said, looking away. 

“No, I’m serious,” the boy insisted. “It’s more than that. The men _do_ listen to you. They’re idiots, but they trust you. I think they’re more loyal to you than you give them credit for.” 

“They were threatening abandoning ship less than a week ago,” Jon reminded him. “That’s _why_ you’re here.” 

Robb shrugged. “Yeah, but trust me, they like you.” 

He smiled, and not for the first time, it struck Jon as _odd_. There was just something about this boy that didn’t fit right. He couldn’t quite tell what it was. It was simply a feeling he couldn’t shake and it happened often when they were alone. 

“Right,” Jon nodded. He looked down at his watch and sighed. “It’s time, kid. You better go up.” 

“You’re not coming with?” 

“It’s just a girl,” Jon said, laughing. He patted the kid’s bony shoulder. “And you’re a handsome lad. I’m sure you’ll entertain her just fine. Go.” 

\------------------------------------------------

Sansa walked into Margaery Tyrell’s cabin, which was actually the captain’s cabin that he gave to her, and sucked in a sharp breath. Standing at the large windows was a tall, slender woman with long thick curling hair. It made her heart ache for her own. Many had known as the copper-haired maiden and perhaps it was vain of her but Sansa had always treasured her hair for its uncommon beauty.

“Y-your grace?” 

Margaery whirled around, her sky blue dress billowing out as if time itself had slowed down to regard the princess’ beauty for a second longer. A smile lit up her face. It was a soft beautiful face with perfectly pouty lips and large doe-like brown eyes. Envy curled deep and hot under Sansa’s skin. She’d always known she was pretty herself. It’d been her curse most of her life. Petyr had kept her close because he desired her and men came to the inn because she was a pretty thing to leer at. She’d once wished for her beauty to disappear, but being in the presence of Margaery, those childish insecurities reared up without warning. All of a sudden, she longed for a curvier figure; for bigger eyes; for fuller lips.

Sansa bowed, trying to stomp down the jealousy. “My name’s –” 

“Robb,” Margaery supplied as she stepped closer. “I was informed by the captain. He said you were very young, but…” She stood inches from Sansa’s faced and peered closely at her. “You’re not young at all. How old are you?” 

“Sixteen, your grace,” Sansa said firmly. 

Margaery laughed and turned around. She walked over to the velvet sofa adjacent to the windows and sat down, reclining gracefully as only royalty could. “You’re lying. I know liars, Robb. A princess is lied to everyday of her life.” 

Sansa frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not lying. Why do you think I’m lying?” 

“Your eyes,” she said simply. “Come sit. If you are to entertain me, you needn’t stand by the door all day now. Please.” 

Without much other option, Sansa obliged and sat across from the princess. She’d never been good at sitting like a boy, but perhaps she overcompensated by splaying out her legs since it instantly drew Margaery’s intention over. 

“What about my eyes?” Sansa asked, trying to push past the moment. 

Margaery shrugged. “They’re wise, shrewd – the eyes of a person who has lived through more years than sixteen.” 

“Maybe I grew up fast.” 

“Maybe,” Margaery conceded. “But you’re hiding something, Robb, and I’m going to figure it out. You’ll be my new puzzle.”

Sansa only showered in the early hours of the morning when she was positive everyone would be asleep. She would sneak out from Sam’s room, tiptoe through the ship and place a broom just underneath the door handle inside the shower room. It wasn’t ideal and the water was always freezing at that hour, but it was the only way Sansa could get cleaned without exposing herself quite _literally_ to the rest of the crew. 

She allowed herself ten minutes of blissful scrubbing before she’d have to race back to the room. It was a routine that had become so mechanical Sansa hardly ever had to think anymore about what she was doing, but since her run-in with Margaery, her brain had become more scattered than usual and in her haste to get to the showers, she’d forgotten her change of clothes. All she had were the dirty ones she’d already tossed to the ground, now soaked from the shower, and her towel. 

Sansa weighed her options or lack thereof. She didn’t want to wear her dirty wet clothes again and she was positive she’d be safe. She hadn’t ever run into any of the crew while on her shower run and Sam was always out like a log until morning. 

Wrapping the towel around herself, Sansa pushed the broom away and pulled open the door. Once the cool night air hit her body, she began to run, racing as fast as she could back to the room she shared with Sam. It would be a hassle getting dressed without waking up the man, but that was a problem for when she was safe and sound and away from any prying eyes. 

Sansa reached the room and quickly threw open the door, backing her way inside and glancing left and right down the narrow corridors to check if she’d been caught. Letting out a sigh of relief, she turned back around and shrieked as two pairs of eyes stared back at her.

“Wha…. I… What?” Sam spluttered, perched on his bed. 

Jon, however, was dead silent as his eyes roved over her face and down the length of her body. When they returned back to her eyes, he was furious. “I _trusted_ you.” 

“Jon, I can explain,” she pleaded, reaching out for him, but he stepped away from her. It hurt more than she could ever think possible. “Please. _Please_ don’t kick me off the ship.” 

“I should,” Jon snapped, eyes still narrowed. “I should throw you out the second we reach our next port. Hell, I should march you to the captain right now.” 

“Jon…” Sansa’s eyes welled up and her chest tightened painfully. She didn’t want to cry; she didn’t want to show any weakness, but she didn’t just need this ship to get to Winterfell, Jon was her friend. He was the only friend she’d ever known. And Sam too. They both were and it pained her that she’d just lost them both in one fell swoop. “I’m sorry. I’m still me. I’m still –” 

“Robb?” Jon chuckled without humour. “What _is_ your name?” 

“It’s Sansa,” she murmured, looking down at her feet, but Sansa _wasn’t_ a little dove anymore. She wasn’t Petyr’s pathetic, stupid girl. She was Sansa and she can at least own up to what she’d done. Sansa forced herself to look back up at Jon. She tilted her chin forward. “My name is Sansa. I was there that night your crew came into my inn and I saw an opportunity and took it, so I won’t apologise for that, but I _am_ sorry for deceiving you. I never wanted to, Jon. You have to believe me.” 

_Please_.

\------------------------------------------------

The singer!

She was the bloody singer! 

Jon rubbed his eyes and shook his head. This was all too much, far more than he ever thought he’d have to handle as the second-in-command, and Jon was tempted to march straight to Captain Davos and tell him of the deception. But he just couldn’t. No matter how angry he was with him – damn it, with _her_ – Jon just couldn’t do it. 

Maybe it was honour that bound him to this girl or maybe it was friendship. Jon couldn’t decide, but whatever it was, he had to wonder if she ever had any intention of telling him the truth – and how the hell he spent every day with her and not been able to tell she was that beautiful singer from the inn! 

Looking at her now, Jon couldn’t believe he ever thought she was a boy. Her hair was shorter, cropped to her ears in a choppy haircut, but she was still as beautiful as he remembered, which was altogether rather confusing and bizarre to him in this moment – although Jon suspected part of her appeal right now may be the fact that she was wearing nothing but a small towel that barely grazed the tops of her knees. He could see too much of her creamy soft skin... and yet not enough of it. 

Jon cleared his throat. “Put on some clothes,” he told her as he left the room. He’d deal with her in the morning. Right now, Jon needed time to mull this over and come to grasps with the fact that boy he’d come to value as a true friend was in fact the girl from the inn. He didn’t think he could. 

It was a petty and childish thing to do. Jon knew it, Sam knew it (and told him frequently), and he suspected Sansa knew it too. But ignoring her was the _only_ thing Jon could do right now. It wasn’t as if the Royal Naval Academy ever taught him how to deal with a girl pretending to be a boy to sneak onto his ship or what to do when the friend you really enjoyed being around turned out to be a beautiful girl who was way out of your league. 

It was a mess, a huge bloody mess, and Jon was better off staying far away from Sansa. 

Thankfully, with their scheduled stop at White Harbour coming up, Jon had far too much to do preparing the crew for their next docking. He had to check which part of the ship needed maintenance, how the budget could cover it and what supplies they needed for the last leg of their journey to Winterfell. Jon was busy. He couldn’t be dealing with Sansa right now even if he wanted, which he absolutely did not want to. 

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” 

Jon looked up from going over the ledgers. “What?” 

“I’m simply asking if we’re friends,” Sam said. “You and I – we’ve been through the academy together and a lot more than that. I value your opinion, Jon. Do you value mine?” 

“Yes, you know that I do”

“Then know that I say this from a place of friendship, but Jon, you’re being an idiot,” Sam said firmly. “This girl… She lied to us, but she had good reason to. If you would just listen to her, you’d understand.” 

“Oh for bloody sake,” Jon groaned and thumped his head onto the table. “I’ve been _busy_. I’ll speak to her when I have the chance. _After_ White Harbour.” 

“So until then, you’ll torture her?” 

“Torture her?” Jon looked up at that and glowered at his friend. “I’ve not done anything!” 

“Exactly,” he pointed out, sighing. Sam leaned forward. “Jon, she _cares_ for you. Your silent treatment hasn’t been easy on her. If you care about her at all then you’d go and talk to her.” 

Jon closed the ledger and stood up. “After White Harbour.” 

\------------------------------------------------

White Harbour was a water-based planet with flowing rivers crisscrossing through its lands, but the colder climate left the tiny planet a much less desirable destination than the Reach or Dorne. The port itself, however, was as busy as most docking stations across the galaxy, and being as close as it was to Winterfell, it was far more booming than Port Eyrie. The _RLS Brotherhood_ docked late into the evening and Sansa helped with the preparations needed for the final maintenance check before their arrival in Winterfell. 

They were less than a week away now from the conclusion of this journey. Where once this knowledge might have made her happy beyond belief, it only brought her an aching sadness she knew she could solely attribute to one curly-haired git. Since discovering who she was three whole days ago, Jon had been determinedly ignoring her. He wouldn’t even look at her anymore and it hurt. She tried to pretend it didn't, but she _missed_ him. She missed his dry sense of humour and how attentive and patient he was with her when he taught her about the ship. She even missed his stupid broody pout and his stupid broody eyes. 

Gods, she just missed everything about him – and now he couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as her. 

Once everything had been sorted, the men decided to pass the time at the local inn like they had once done so long ago now at Port Eyrie. Sansa decided not to follow. If she’d wanted to be around rowdy men as they drank and made lewd comments about women, she would have stayed where she was. 

Instead, Sansa decided to take a walk down by the river. She stripped the beanie off and let her hair whip around in the etherium wind. It was freeing after so long spent with the beanie pulled nearly halfway down her face. Sansa reckoned she probably could go without it now on the ship, but she didn’t want to risk it. The beanie kept her eyes shadowed and dull, not as piercingly blue as they normally were, and it darkened her features. Without it, she looked far more feminine and Sansa couldn’t risk more people finding out. Jon and Sam may be honourable enough not to say or do anything, but the other men – well, she couldn’t be sure. 

The river wound through the city, taking her further and further away from the dock, but the path was brightly lit and something about the cold air made her feel safe. Sansa was almost home now. Even if Jon never forgave her, she at least had that to look forward too, though a part of her wished that Jon _could_ be apart of that new home she built for herself. 

God, it was dumb of her to fall for a man like Jon. He could never forgive her; he’d never see her as anything other than Robb the untrustworthy orphan boy. 

Sansa groaned and kicked at a pebble, watching it as it skittered across the river. 

“Silver piece for your thoughts, m’lady?” 

“Huh?” Sansa turned and caught sight of a man emerging from one of the alleys. He was well-dressed, fair-haired and handsome. He bowed to her as he approached. “I’m sorry; what did you say?” 

“I was merely wondering what could possibly trouble the mind of someone so pretty,” he said, his smile so charming it could put the princes and heroes in the stories Sam told her to shame. 

“You think I’m pretty?” she asked without thinking, realising now that he knew she was a girl. 

“Quite so, miss,” he told her. “Has no one ever told you so before?” 

Sansa shook her head. She’d been told all the time at the Eyrie, but it’d been so long now she forgot what it felt like to be desired as who she was. Sansa offered the man a smile. “I’m Sansa,” she said, offering him her hand.

He kissed it, much to her surprise. “It’s a pleasure, Sansa. You can call me Harry.” He looked around for a moment before asking, “what are you doing walking around here so late at night? It’s really not safe, you know?” 

“Well, I’m with you now. Does that make me safe or unsafe?” 

Sansa didn’t care for him. Yes, he was handsome, but he wasn’t Jon and that was a distinction that made all the difference for her these days. It _was_ nice though to be noticed again and it was also admittedly quite nice to flirt and smile prettily at a man again, even it was for show. 

Wasn’t Sansa allowed one night of harmless fun? 

\------------------------------------------------

Jon wished he’d stayed at the inn and minded his own business. He wished he’d left her alone like he’d been doing for the past three days, but Sam’s voice kept ringing in his head like a solar flare siren and when he saw her walk away, he couldn’t stop his feet from following. Whatever anger or sense of betrayal Jon felt towards her, it didn’t mean he had stopped caring. Whether she was Robb or Sansa, he still considered her a friend, perhaps one of his truest friends, and he didn’t want her to run off alone and get hurt. 

At least that was before Jon had to watch her flirt with someone else. He shouldn’t even care since he hadn’t even thought of her in that way a few days ago, but seeing her there with her short copper hair loose and blowing in the wind while flirting with some other guy, it made his blood boil.

But it wasn’t just the jealousy that was surprising, it was the shame. 

This stranger had taken one look at Sansa and saw her for who she was, while Jon had spent every single day with her for the past week and saw nothing. It wasn’t as if she looked that different without her beanie on or that her hair made her any more feminine than she looked now, but Jon just hadn’t seen it and he felt ashamed for it. Sansa was beautiful with long hair or short hair, in a midnight blue dress like the night he saw her or in a baggy tunic and dull brown trousers. She was beautiful in every which way and Jon hadn’t seen that, but this guy _did_. He saw right away. 

Jon turned around. He couldn’t watch this, not if that guy wanted to keep his nose in tact, and as jealous as he was, he would never do that to Sansa. She wasn’t his. One day, she would leave the _RLS Brotherhood_ and she’d be gone from his life. A girl like her, she’d probably find someone quickly and forget all about him. 

The walk back to the ship was a quiet one with most now inside the inns and pubs. Jon felt weighed down by everything he was feeling tonight. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now, _how_ he was supposed to be around her, not when he knew he wanted her and didn’t deserve her. Maybe it was best he _did_ stay away. 

But it wasn’t so easy to ignore her. 

“Oi Robb, get your scrawny arse over here!” 

Jon froze, his hand poised over the steering wheel. He had a clear view of her as she walked across the deck towards Warren from the helm of the ship. He tried not to stare, but he’d been hyper aware of her movements since they left White Harbour. 

“We need you get this rope up through there,” the giant lug boomed out. “Do you think you can manage it?” It was a challenge.

Sansa visibly paled, but she tilted her chin forward and grabbed the rope. “Sure,” she said, though her voice was soft in comparison, it was no less defiant. She grabbed hold of the steel rung and began to climb, the end of the rope tied to her trousers. As she ascended further and further up the mast, Jon’s palms began to sweat. Sansa was tough, but she’d never been _physically_ tough, and at any second now, she could fall and gravely injure herself. The very idea brought on a wave of nausea as Jon considered it. He wanted to put a stop to this, but there was nothing he could say that would make any logical sense to his crew. 

Eventually, Sansa reached the top to a few whoops from the men below. She smiled as she then began to loop the rope through and tied it into the knot that Jon had taught her on the first day of her training. Pride swelled up in him and Jon even cheered along with the men as she descended down the mast. 

“Well, who would’ve thought you had the balls for that, eh lad?” Warren laughed. 

“And probably a big pecker too,” Teryn shouted, much to the amusement of the other men. 

Jon squirmed. This was a bizarre conversation he never thought he’d have to hear about the woman he fancied. 

“Bigger than yours at least,” Sansa smirked. She nudged Warren with her bony shoulder, though it didn’t do much to dislodge the man from his feet. It did, however, manage to make the man laugh uproariously. 

“Alright, alright, lad,” Warren said. “That’s enough out of ya. Get your arse back to that boring fella now.” 

Sansa mock-saluted and began to walk away, but as she turned, Warren gave her a good thwack to the bum. She jumped and her face flushed a bright red when she glanced back at the man. 

“Oh ho, is our young lad a bit shy?” Warren asked, amused. 

Sansa shook her head. “N-no. I’m not!” 

Warren made to lunge for Sansa and she squeaked, jumping back again. “Bloody hell, lad! You sound like your balls haven’t dropped yet.” 

“Yeah, sounds like a right girl, don’t he!” Teryn snorted. 

“I do not!” Sansa shouted back, but her face had turned as bright as the bits of copper peeking out of her beanie. 

“Maybe we should check!” shouted someone else from the crowd.

Jon’s heart seized in his throat. _Shit…_

A loud murmur of agreement ran through the crowd of men, as Sansa began backing away, but Warren and Teryn followed. 

“Don’t worry, boy. It’s a rite of passage. Every bloke here’s been stripped and tied outside for a night. The cold air will do ya some good,” Warren said, just as he jumped forward and grabbed Sansa forearm. He twisted and pulled while she struggled to break free. 

“Robb!” 

Everyone went silent, though Warren’s arm was still circled around Sansa’s waist.

“Didn’t I tell you to go straight to Sam after you were done with your chores?” Jon shouted, stepping down from the helm. He signalled for one of the men to take over the steering, as he jerked Sansa from Warren’s grip. “Next time you disobey me, I’ll have you locked in the cellar. Do you hear me, boy?” 

Jon ignored the crew despite the overwhelming urge to throw Warren overboard and tugged Sansa along. He led her off of the deck and through the corridor leading to the cabins and offices above and when he reached the first door, Jon pushed her inside without much thought. All he could feel was anger – at Warren, at Teryn, at the damned bloody crew of this godforsaken ship, and at her. 

God, he was furious with her. 

“Do you have any idea what could’ve happened!” Jon demanded. 

“So we’re speaking now?” 

“Be serious,” he growled out, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “You could’ve been found out, Sansa!” 

Although it was dark in the closet, he could still see the discernable aggravation in her eyes and by the set of her lips. Sansa crossed her arms over her chest. “I appreciate what you did for me, Jon, but I’m not some dumb naive little girl. I _know_.” 

“Then maybe you should’ve been more careful!” Jon wasn’t going to back down. The fear and anger had cemented him in his conviction now. 

“And what should I have done!” Sansa poked him in the chest as she glared back. “Stop myself from blushing because a man touched me? I can’t help it, Jon! I can’t control these things! And for you to – to say that it was _my_ fault? God!” 

“No! Fuck… no. That’s not what I meant!” Jon shook his head, but it was no use clearing the fog that continued to pervade his mind. “I just meant…” But he didn’t know what he meant. He couldn’t think clearly to come up with a coherent answer.

“What did you mean?” she snapped. “Because you’re being a real asshole right now.” 

“ _I’m_ an asshole for caring about what happens to you?” Jon asked, incredulous. 

Sansa scoffed, a low, brittle chuckle leaving her lips. “Care about me? That’s rich.” 

“I _care_ ,” Jon asserted through gritted teeth, a different kind of frustration now taking over. “Of course I bloody care, Sansa. I care if you’re happy. I care if the crew treat you right and if you’re safe around them. And I fucking care if another man touches you like that. If I had it my way, no man would ever touch you again.” 

“That’s extreme, Jon...” 

“I’m serious,” he said emphatically. “I hate the thought of them hurting you.” 

“But no one’s ever allowed to touch me?” Sansa asked, her breath hitching slightly.

Jon realised then that he’d been unknowingly crowding her back up against the wall, their faces only inches away from the other. He swallowed tightly as he fought the rational part of his mind telling him to back away. It was too late now. He could feel it, the electricity flaring up between them like some kind of solar storm, and Jon didn’t want to fight it. He had used up all of his self-control trying to keep away from her in the past four days and with her here now, practically in his arms, Jon didn’t care anymore. 

“No one,” Jon murmured, leaning forward, “butme.” 

\------------------------------------------------

The kiss was nothing like the Jon she had come to know over the course of the past week. The patient, gentle Jon, who had stayed up to teach her how to tie a sheet bend knot, was not the one pressing her up against a wall. He was not the one digging his fingers into her hips and circling her bare skin underneath her tunic with his thumbs. No, the Jon she had met as Robb would never do this, but this Jon, the one that had pushed her into a supply closet and crowded her up against a wall, would.

Jon had not lived to this age without kissing a few beautiful women, but none had ever made that noise when he kissed them. The sharp inhale of breath, the breathy sigh against his lips – all of it tore down his defences, or what little was left of them, and Jon couldn’t help himself. He wanted to touch her, caress her, explore every inch of her and map out the constellations on her skin. He wanted to consume her so that they could burn together like a star exploding in the sky. 

It was as if the fire that had lit up his eyes only moments ago was now searing through her lips, igniting along her body wherever he touched her, and yet even as she burned, it wasn’t enough. Sansa ran her hands up his chest, feeling the broadness of his shoulders and then winding them around his neck to pull him in closer. 

He could feel her breasts flushed against him, small and pert, and Jon yearned to feel them in his hands. He pulled back only long enough to press an open-mouthed kiss to her neck where he could feel her pulse thud rapidly against his lips. Jon suckled at the skin there, using his teeth to nip gently until her mewl of pleasure sent a jolt through to his cock. He slowly trailed light kisses further down the column of her neck, delighting in the sounds that she was making and knowing it was all because of him. He could kiss a dozen more women, ones as beautiful as the next, but Jon doubted they could ever be as responsive as Sansa was right now, and nor would they ever turn him on so quickly with just the soft sounds of their pleasure. 

Upon feeling Jon’s hand begin to fall down to the back of her thigh, Sansa decided to help him out by hitching her right leg over his hip and grinding herself against him. They both moaned in unison, and just like that, it was as if a spark had gone off. Jon’s hands were everywhere. One pushed under her tunic, splaying out across her skin, while the other began kneading her thigh. Sansa could hardly breathe under the ministrations; heat coiled tightly in her core, wetting her undergarments, as her arousal rose with each second. 

As Sansa ground back down onto him, Jon let out a low groan, something deep and primal from the back of his throat. He nosed away the collar of her tunic, determined to reach the soft swells of her breasts – only to be met with something far more disappointing. He jerked back slightly in shock. “Uh… Sansa, what’s this?” 

Hooded eyes blinked back at him, before acknowledgement rang clear in her blue eyes as Sansa took in what Jon was staring at. She giggled nervously, dropping her hands from around his neck to cover it. “It’s – it’s my binding,” she said slowly. “It’s to keep them down.” 

Jon laughed, short and abrupt. He peeled her hands away to get a better look. “That can’t be comfortable,” he mused out loud. Sansa shook her head. “Maybe we should make you _more_ comfortable then.” 

The line made Sansa roll her eyes. She shoved him back gently as she gripped the hem of her tunic and pulled it over her head. It was supposed to be in exasperation, a little teasing, but the way Jon’s eyes roamed over her body caused her breath to hitch. She knew lust. She’d _seen_ lust, but this wasn’t it, it was reverence. He ran a hand up her body, causing her to shiver in anticipation, before slowly dipping his fingers in between the band and her body. Sansa covered them with her own, and together, they unwound the banding slowly as their eyes never left each other’s. 

As the white banding pooled to the floor, Jon wasted no time in grabbing hold of her hips and dropping a hot kiss to the soft curve of her right breast. She tasted of salt and the standard issue soap, but Jon had never tasted anything so good in his life. He jerked her hips into his, pressing himself against her as much as he could through their trousers, the desire aching painfully in his cock. Jon could have all of her every day for the rest of his life and it still wouldn’t satiate his hunger for her. He nipped at the skin just above her nipple to show her the extent of those emotions, and when that wasn’t enough, Jon circled her with his tongue, teasing the puckered skin, until he could feel her fingers card through his hair, tight and painful. 

“ _Jon_ …” she gasped when his teeth pulled at her nipple. “God, please…” 

“What do you want, Sansa?” He ground against her again, making her cry out with surprise. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I want…” Her breaths came short and fast. “I want you to…” Just then, Jon turned his attention to her left breast and Sansa once more lost the ability to think. She was well aware of what exactly pushed her over the edge and how to get herself there, but having someone else tease at her nipples made her realise just how sensitive she was there. The ache that came with each flick and tug made her wonder if she could come alone just from that. 

Abruptly, Jon pulled back and Sansa’s whine at the loss of contact elicited a smirk from him. He kissed her gently on the lips, on either cheeks and then on her nose. She was breathless, but smiling. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her short cropped hair wild and in disarray. Sansa was beautiful. 

She closed her eyes as she felt his breath along her neck, anticipating his lips on her again, but instead, he murmured in her ear, filthy and hot. “I want to taste you. I want to fuck you until you come apart on my tongue.” He pressed his hand over her mound, causing her to gasp out loud. “Is that what you want, Sansa?” She nodded, not trusting herself to speak in the moment. 

Jon dropped to his knees and undid her trousers, pulling them down around her ankles. Sansa lifted each foot and allowed him to toss it aside. The cold hard ground of the supply close wasn’t great for his knees and there wasn’t much room to maneuver in here, but unless the entire ship exploded in a solar storm, Jon was going to taste her, lick inside her cunt and make her scream his name. He pulled at her undergarments, slowly, tantalisingly, until he could see her bare in front of him. Jon glanced up to see Sansa watching him, her lip between her teeth and a flush of pink on her cheeks that hadn’t been there before. He kissed the inside of her thigh, using one hand to massage the soft underside of her leg. “Relax, Sansa. Trust me.” 

She nodded, inhaling deeply. She did trust him, and if she was coherent enough to really think about it, she’d realise that Jon was the first person she’d ever trusted so wholly and completely in her life. There was her family, but their memories were murky, hidden away from her. Jon, however, was in vivid technicolour. She could paint the sky with the colours that he’d brought into her life. 

Hitching her leg over his shoulder, Jon urged her to lean on him and spread her legs wider. His cock throbbed at the sight of her glistening cunt and he had to force himself to slow down, dropping chaste kisses to the inside of her thigh, trailing his way deliberately up to her outer lips. He licked along her slit, holding her hips tightly with his hands as she jerked forward at the sudden contact. “Easy, love,” he chuckled, before nosing against the bundle of nerves. Jon continued to lick languidly, occasionally stopping to press hot kisses above her clit and below it, but never quite there. 

“Jon,” Sansa gasped out. She had her fingers through his hair, pulling it undone from his bun, and tugging harshly to get his attention. “Stop... teasing... me,” she said with each exhale of breath. Jon laughed, and before she could chastise him for being a git, he sucked the nub at the apex of her thighs in between his lips and Sansa cried out, head knocking back into the wall.

Never had a woman’s mewls of pleasure been so arousing for him before and Jon relished each moan and choked cry of his name he brought out of Sansa. He continued to suck and lick at her clit, as he brought one hand down to press his thumb against her opening. When he used his teeth to graze over her nub, Sansa rocked against him with such force, it nearly threw him off-balance. Her breaths started coming in shorter, faster, as she ground herself against his face. Jon increased his ministrations, tilting his face back just slightly to watch as she moaned and squirmed. 

“Fuck, fuck… Jon, I’m…” 

Without warning, Jon thrust two fingers into her and that was all it took to send her over the edge, igniting every nerve in her body on fire. Sansa bit down on her lip bottom lip to stop herself from screaming out, but the sounds still escaped, muffled and desperate, almost mortifying if she wasn’t so consumed already with the pleasure exploding behind her eyes.

As Sansa’s body rocked with the last waves of her orgasm, Jon gently placed her leg back down and stood up, unable to stop smiling at her. He swept his thumb across her cheekbone, drawing her eyes open. She smiled lazily back at him. “You’re beautiful,” he told her with a kiss to her lips. 

She chuckled and placed a hand against his chest. “Jon, _why_ are you still wearing clothes?” He didn’t have a good answer for her and she wasn’t looking for one. With brusque and clumsy movements, she pulled the tunic over his head and fulfilled her first ever fantasy about Jon by running her hands over his broad chest, dipping down along his abdomen and playing with the trail of hair below his navel. Sansa unzipped his trousers and pushed them over his hips, not bothering to pretend that she wasn’t impatient to feel him inside of her. One orgasm was great, but she wanted more. She wanted _him_. 

Jon groaned, nearly collapsing on top of her when he felt her circle his cock with her hands. He pressed both hands on either side of her head to stop himself from crushing her, as she continued to move up and down along his shaft. He wasn’t going to last very long if she kept this up and he tried to tell her so, but it would appear she already figured as much when she hitched her leg over his hip. Jon’s hand immediately went to hold her there. 

Their eyes met, blue with grey, as Sansa guided the head of his cock to her cunt, still wet with her come. She teased him along her slit, before she pressed him into her clit, causing both of them to cry out at the same time. 

“Is this payback?” Jon breathed out against her neck. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Because if it is, I’m very sorry about earlier.”

Sansa laughed and then brought herself up onto her tiptoes so she could sink down onto his length, pushing hard and fast until he was buried to the hilt. It was painful at first, a searing jolt running through her at the abrupt entrance, and she stilled to adjust to his size. “God, Jon, you feel so…”

“I know,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder. “Fuck, I know, Sansa.” 

When she felt fully adjusted, Sansa began to move, slowly, experimentally, and to his credit, Jon let her lead. He just continued murmuring nonsensical words into her skin, drawing patterns with his tongue, and holding her steady with his hand under her thigh. 

“Carry me,” Sansa said, inclining her head back to look at him. “I want you to fuck me, Jon.” She jerked her hips forward. “Hard.” And again. “Fast.” 

That was all the encouragement Jon needed. He grabbed hold of her other thigh and hitched her up around his waist. Her legs immediately wound over his hips and Jon pressed her forcefully against the wall for leverage. If Sansa wanted hard and fast then he would oblige, thrusting upwards into her with as much force as he could manage at this angle. The sound of their skin meeting skin with each thrust combined with the whimpers and moans coming from Sansa spurred him on; he had never heard anything more intoxicating in his life. 

There had been one man before Jon. A fair-haired sailor that had come through town a couple of years back, someone who had charmed her with his pretty words and handsome smile. He pounded inside her, spent himself and turned over, leaving Sansa unsatisfied and aching. But with Jon, it didn’t feel like they were racing towards different destinations. It was one destination, one goal in mind and one rhythm that they perfected together. He’d push and she would rise up to meet him; he’d groan and she’d cry out for him; and when he captured her lips with his, she licked into his mouth, desperate and needy to take everything that was Jon and make it hers. 

Jon’s movements began to grow shorter, jerkier and she knew he was close now. She met him thrust for thrust, angling herself so that he could her there, that point deep inside of her that made her feel like she was flying inside of a solar flare. As her orgasm began to build, her walls began to clench around him and she could feel that setting Jon off. 

The moment he felt her tighten around him, Jon knew he was gone. He’d never be able to last and he didn’t want to come before she did, so with an apology in mind for after, he pushed her harder back against the wall and dislodged one hand to wedge in between them and press against her clit. Sansa cried out, clawing at his back and drawing red lines along his skin. It took him only a few jerks more of his hips before Jon was coming into her, fast and hot. He rocked into her embrace before suddenly feeling his strength begin to give away. Jon gently dropped her to her feet. 

“I can’t believe,” Sansa exhaled, leaning her cheek against Jon’s shoulders, eyes closed and heart still ramming rapidly in her chest, “that you’ve been ignoring me for four days and we could’ve been doing that.” 

Jon laughed, loud and abrupt. “Trust me, love, I’ll make it up to you.” 


End file.
